


In the fight (and flight) for the gold

by harajukucrepes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cultural References, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Not!Romance, Post-Canon, Yuri Plisetsky's mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:27:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9255392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harajukucrepes/pseuds/harajukucrepes
Summary: In a few months, when the commentators announce Yuri Plisetsky’s routine, it would not be about the fact that he had suffered a fall a season earlier, but about the grace and dignity of a soldier that he brings to the rink.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I took on the name of Yulia Lipnitskaya's cat, Tepa, as the name of Yuri's cat  
> 2\. Yuri's mother is named after my Russian Language teacher, there's no particular reason behind  
> 3\. Too many headcanons included  
> 4\. Eagle-hunting is a real thing among Kazakhs, you may read about it [here](http://www.dailymail.co.uk/travel/travel_news/article-3493081/Beak-practice-70-Kazakh-eagle-hunters-4-000-year-old-tradition-alive-unique-bond-clad-skins-wolves-birds-caught.html).  
> 5\. I sorta made up the choreography for Yuri's hypothetical next season, but here are the links of the songs if you're interested:  
> \- [Miero vuotti uutta kuuta from Five Finnish Folk Songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wksYI_ZzXWM)  
> \- [Beyond the Veil](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qg7L0OQiN78)  
> \- [The Mummers’ Dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lc7Ke9Org9U)  
> \- [Aurora](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xi_5JH49gsg)

*

 

In the fight (and flight) for the gold

 

*

 

_Matryoshka, bought approximately 30 years ago_

 

You’re growing up very fast, Yuratchka. I’m so proud, his grandfather says. 

As a boy, Yuri sometimes bemoaned the fact that there was nothing on him that would eventually make him into his grandfather. His body was (still) small for his age, his facial features too delicate, his eyes too icy. He had hoped that puberty would work in his favour, but it only ended up further accentuating the paleness of his hair and the coldness of his eyes—none of the masculinity and the toughness that defined a soldier of his grandfather’s calibre. 

When Yuri told his grandfather that he would be dropping his father’s name, and it wouldn’t be just for competitions, his grandfather gave him a small knowing nod. I don’t know him, grandpa, Little Yuri had said, I can’t bear his name when I’m wholly my mother’s son. 

His grandfather then disappeared into the tiny attic, and Yuri wanted to kick himself into oblivion. How could you have hurt him so, he admonished himself, when grandpa is all you have? 

His grandfather reappeared with a dusty paper box, inside containing an old matryoshka doll drawn with red costume with faded silver wings. 

It was your father’s, he said. Take it with you. 

On the way to the Sheremetyevo Airport, Nikolai held out his hand to Yuri. 

Look at the creases, then look at yours, and Yuri, right before boarding the plane on his own at the age of 10 to St Petersburg, discovered that he had his grandfather’s palm. 

My son, your father—he has the same hand, Nikolai said, ruffling his grandson’s head. 

Yuri was so overjoyed that he hugged his grandfather tight and refused to let go until the security informed them that the car was obscuring the traffic. 

I’ll win gold with this, he yelled as he ran inside the departure hall, a promise he had kept since then until now, the very first gold from the very first senior competition he could qualify for. 

 

*

 

_Entrance ticket to Hasetsu Castle, ¥200_

 

To say that Yuri Plisetsky has reconciled with the inevitable fact that Yuri Katsuki—

(He still refuses to think that their names only _might_ sound similar because apparently there’s another U in that Katsudon’s name when you spell it out in Roman alphabets. It makes him feel a bit dumb. 

Oh, and Katsudon’s name in his own language apparently means more or less the same as Viktor’s. 

Ugh, disgusting soulmates.)

—is now training with him is a little oversimplifying things. 

First, there’s the fact that Viktor is returning as a skater and therefore, officially, still under Yakov’s tutelage and Yakov is therefore accountable for his performance. Viktor, on the other hand, seems to have lost all drive to win the gold medal, instead, focuses his time on grabbing Katsudon’s attention during practise. Yakov chooses to ignore Viktor until he gets his mind back onto the ice; Georgi stares at the phone wallpaper of his girlfriend then skate harder; Mila whistles in amusement; the others pretend they aren’t there—it would have been ten times funnier if Yuri were in the mood for it, but unfortunately, he’s _never_ in the mood to watch them being silly, what’s with the tough new choreography for the upcoming season and even if Viktor’s not interested in the fight for the gold, _Yuri_ is still very much interested in it. 

There’s just too much at stake, because there’s too little time. 

Yurio, that Katsudon calls, we are—the nerve of him, Yuri thinks, to use the word we while skating on borrowed ice—thinking of taking a break after the Four Continents to visit Hasetsu, do you wanna come with us? 

No, Yuri says instantly. I’m not taking a 14-hour flight with the both of you. 

Though, Yuri has to admit, a trip to Hasetsu doesn’t sound too bad. He could hang out with Yuko-san again, without the triplets hopefully, since she did promise to take him on a food trip (hopefully more katsudon—the food, not Viktor’s, urgh, fiance—and maybe ramen this time around? Viktor said they were delicious) and just chilling around the beach. 

Otabek can come to, Yurio, Viktor sings. 

Shut up, stupid Viktor. Like Beka would even entertain this. 

 

*

 

_Box of Swiss Chocolate, half-eaten_

 

Yuri has never really spoken to Christophe—not in person, one-to-one at least. He does send him occasional glances and winks, all which Yuri ignores. It’s kinda rude, he knows, but he doesn’t care. Making sure that other skaters don’t hate him isn’t imperative in winning. 

Nothing could convince Yuri that Christophe and Viktor didn’t have a Thing. It’s the thing about Viktor that Yuri doesn’t get—the way he draws people towards him, the way he just effortlessly switches Things on. It’s like he has trained for so long that his sweat crystallised into glow or something. Yuri’s pretty sure that Viktor didn’t mean to have a permanent Switch on, but it pisses him off that Viktor seems incapable of knowing that he _couldn’t_ turn it off, because that seems to have blinded Viktor towards all the advances that people make at him. 

Thing is, Christophe was never just being platonic with him. Yuri saw through him when he saw Christophe for the very first time during his first junior championship, and he still sees it now. Ring on finger or not, Christophe still thinks of the Thing with Viktor, that much is clear. 

Meh, Yuri thinks, none of my business. It’s not like I’m Katsudon. 

Yuri hates gossips, but he can’t help it that gossip-worthy things just happen around him. 

(Yakov refused to do anything about Yuri’s Angels. 

I’m your coach! Not your manager! he had yelled.)

 

*

 

_Fridge Magnet of Gangneung’s Sun Cruise Hotel, South Korea_

 

It’s nice to be the one watching instead of competing. The senior division is so fascinating. 

Are you making fun of me, Otabek asks as they dine in a small Korean restaurant. Otabek wanted to try the mandoo dumplings, Yuri wanted to eat barbeque, and they need to avoid the bigger restaurants because of the crowd. 

I’m _cheering_ for you, Yuri corrects. The Katsudon has done nothing but to fool around with Viktor, you should be able to clinch this with half your eyes closed. It’s the Four Continents and JJ isn’t competing, so nobody’s cheating you off your medal. 

Yuri, I can’t close half my eyes while skating—I’m just saying, Yuri cuts while Otabek tries to inject some logic. 

I mean, Yuri says over a mouthful of grilled beef, you’re really good, do you know that? 

Otabek smiles. I really enjoy talking with you. Will you hang out with me every time we meet? 

Even when we don’t get to meet, Yuri promises with a thumbs up. 

 

*

 

_Packet of dried fish, bought from Yanagibashi, Fukuoka_

 

You can’t have that, Yuri tells his cat. Tepa bares her fangs and hisses ferociously, then jumped away from his arms. 

Fine, Yuri hisses back. Ignore me all you want, not my fault if you choke on it later. Stupid cat. 

Yuko-san has taken the habit of packing him all the different varieties of Japanese food to take back to St Petersburg after their short getaway to Hasetsu, much to Katsudon’s chagrin. She’s playing favourites, he whines. I’ve known her since before I could walk! 

You can have them all, Yuri thinks. It’s not that Yuri doesn’t like them, but Katsudon was obviously missing home and Yuri can’t fault him for that. He’s a wimp, but at least he’s a wimp who’s loyal to his home. It gives Yuri a sense of relief somewhat, knowing that life, even one that’s filled with changes, is marked by attachments. 

 

*

 

_Postcard with picture of mountains Altai Region, Mongolia_

 

I’ve always wanted an eagle, Otabek says over messaging like it’s normal thing to want and damn if it isn’t the coolest thing Yuri has ever heard. 

It does make Yuri a little jealous, Otabek and his unpretentious, _downright unintentional_ coolness that feels like a genetic disposition. It’s like he’s even born to be cool, when Yuri thinks about it, that’s why he should text like a lame duck hipster college student who couldn’t even punctuate properly to create a gap or something. But Otabek texts like a gentleman leaving for war—straightforward and proper and mostly, _charming._

I was told that my great-grandfather had one, Otabek explains. He was part of the family that was driven away to the mountains some time back when the war happened. 

I only have a cat, and I’m lucky if she ignores me only once a day. 

Seems like a tough pet to keep, Otabek texts back. 

Says the one who wants an _eagle._

 

*

 

_Broken twig, from some random tree in the streets_

 

You should stop texting so much, Viktor says as he skates past. 

Dude, you have your fiance moved over here, don’t talk to me about me being addicted to anything. 

You got me wrong, Viktor says, I’m asking you to go and _get him._

Yuri doesn’t wanna receive advice from a man so rash that he flew to Japan to pursue a man who didn’t even remember hitting on him. 

Besides, Yuri thinks, I leave my cat alone too often. She's gonna start building a home out of broken things she could collect and reject my existence completely. 

 

*

 

_Prescription list for Nikolai Plisetsky, issued by Gritman Medical Center, Moscow_

 

The list gets uselessly longer by the year, because that’s the thing with old people. You have medications that couldn’t guarantee recovery and you have symptoms that couldn’t be treated by medications. You take more of those pills to prolong life— _suffering_ , really—then you take even more when it slowly fails you—it even sounds like addiction—then what? 

His grandfather hasn’t lived a warrior’s life just to age like a piece of thin glass. 

Yuri often tells himself that he thinks the world of his grandfather because he’s all he has, but now he's told that the reverse is also true. For his grandfather, his Yuratchka is all he has now; his amazing, strong hero of a grandson. 

He starts the night with his head next to his grandfather’s hand, the steady beep of the monitor lulling him into a state of daze, then when he’s awakened by his grandfather gently stroking his hair, he could only manage to grip the sheets for a short moment before squeezing himself into the hospital bed and have his grandfather hold him to sleep. 

I have always wanted to be big, grandfather, he sobs. I’ve always wanted to be tough and manly just like you. I’ve always wanted to grow up to be a man like you. 

But now I want to be small. 

 

*

 

_Armageddon headphone, red_

 

One thing he’d give Japan the credit for—they produce pretty amazing music. Yet, for a citizen of a country that still relies heavily on CD sales, the Katsudon doesn’t seem to own a lot of them. 

It’s because I travel a lot, he was saying sheepishly, letting the sentence die on its own, as though it will explain everything. 

Yuri isn’t fooled though. He has seen the way Katsudon’s room in Hasetsu barely obscuring piles of posters of Viktor and the shelves of self-made CDs with recordings of all the songs Viktor skated to. He wonders if Katsudon actually fainted when he saw the actual CDs in Viktor’s place—all the sound engineering effort for naught—

(At times, Yuri feels like wanting to know about the person who has helped Katsudon with the music. He hears of this person—a girl, from the way he talks about them—who composed and improvised the Yuri on Ice song. Did— _does_ —she have a crush on Katsudon? 

Then again, it’s not his business. It’s not like he’s Viktor.) 

—when he could have all the access to the high definition recordings of it just a few years down the road. Really, who would have thought that the bespectacled, visual representation of a nerd would actually be the one that Viktor chose. Viktor Nikiforov, five-time gold medalist, who could have anyone in the world, shocks the world by falling for a no-medal pig—would have been the title of the news article if Yuri could write it. 

How does that relationship work anyway, Yuri sometimes ponders. How could you just magically fall in genuine love with someone you’ve spent your entire life worshipping? How do you will yourself to scrap the crystallised glow on Viktor’s skin and see the hollow man that he is? 

 

*

 

 _Guitar pick, thin, black_

 

I’ve always wanted to be able to play the electric guitar, Otabek says over Facetime. 

Are you for real, Yuri utters. It has been unbelievable how constantly Otabek is able to surprise him. Yuri likes it though, the way he keeps finding out new sides about his friend. It’s been awhile since he has been this genuinely interested in anyone. 

(Katsudon doesn’t count. People who shatters illusions from the first impression don’t deserve his interest.)

Something wrong? Otabek’s brow furrows. 

No, not exactly, Yuri backtracks. By the way, didn’t you say you want to show me your room?

Otabek complies and Yuri immediately regrets his request. Behind Otabek, the furniture are squeaky clean, the shelves all neatly arranged, the bed made and the dining table nicely prepared for dinner. 

Yuri, meanwhile, has just done eating the instant ramen—don’t tell Lilia, he says, she’ll kill me—and is now snacking on potato chips. Tepa jumps into the bed, steals the one he’s eating and Yuri promptly lets out a squeal of Hey! That’s mine! to Otabek’s visible amusement. 

You know, Lilia is right, Otabek says. You need to grow, so you need to eat better. 

You try eating anything with Viktor attempting to cook, Yuri replies. 

Otabek laughs, and suddenly Yuri remembers that there’s no public picture of Otabek smiling or laughing, _ever_. Yuri avoids the paparazzi—they are literal plague, really—but unfortunately Yuri’s Angels are really good at capturing him in his unguarded moments. But there’s no such moment for Otabek. 

It’s because Kazakhstan doesn’t see me the way Yuri’s Angels see you, he once said. Yuri can’t help but to feel a little jealous, but at least he doesn’t have to dine with the President regularly. 

He notices something about Otabek as he throws himself back, looks like there’s something fresh about him, like he—

Beka, you shaved? he asks. 

Otabek seems pleasantly surprised. You noticed? he says, and turns around so that he could show Yuri his fresh undercut. 

Just got back from the salon, he explains. 

Yuri takes a few snapshots, trying to avoid thinking about the way his chest thumped at the close-up of Otabek’s jawline. 

 

*

 

_Invitation card to the President’s Annual Gala for Sports and Culture_

 

Regularly or not, Yuri still has to dine with the President nevertheless. 

Urgggghhhh, he complains to Otabek over text. Help me. 

Otabek’s reply catches him off guard. 

I’m sorry. As much as I want to, your President is sensitive topic here. 

Oh no, Yuri thinks, I must have upset him so much that he’s reverting to old people speech. Sometimes those tricky things in history and international relations slip off his mind. 

I didn’t even mean it literally, Yuri sulks. Why are you so serious, Beka?

 

*

 

_Blue pin-striped tie hanging on the cupboard knob, undone_

 

Yuri, I’m sorry, begins the text message, hope you had fun tonight. 

Damn it Beka, sometimes you’re so cold. 

 

*

 

_CD, White Ash’s Spade 3_

 

The first track immediately catches Yuri’s attention and the rest of the album could only get better. Damn it, Katsudon, you’ve got game. 

Uhm, I don’t know what you usually listen to, so I’m just basically guessing. Do you like it? 

Damn it, Katsudon. You’ve got a good game right here. 

God. Damn. It. 

 

*

 

_Good luck charm, Kinshoji Temple, Hasetsu_

 

I’m sorry, Yuratchka. They don’t allow me to go home until next week. 

There’s no pirozkhi this time, but you’ll do well, I believe you. 

 

*

 

_Dried leaf, piled on top of the broken twigs_

 

Yakov and Lilia are not going to get back together. Apparently. 

(Yuri begs to differ. Have people seen the way those two old farts _looking_ at each other, jeez.)

Mila says she heard it from a friend of a friend, who saw them out on a date the night before and was positive that Lilia turned Yakov down. They came out from the expensive restaurant looking like they were ready to murder each other. 

Either way, it’s not going to make any difference. They were divorced when Lilia agreed to train Yuri, and she has kept training Yuri while staying divorced from Yakov. Their professional relationship doesn’t suffer from their personal relationship—if only the same can be said about Viktor and Katsudon. 

They are easily making themselves the ready-made permanent subjects of scrutiny, Mila says. Wearing their hearts on their sleeves and letting their emotions pioneer their careers. Yuri doesn’t agree at all with the things that Viktor does to Katsudon sometimes—Yakov even have to interfere once in awhile—but Katsudon did hire him as a coach. Shrugs. 

(Speaking of which, has anyone asked Viktor how much is his coaching fees?)

 

*

 

_Printed picture of Almaty rink_

 

I grew about 2 inches, Yuri tells Otabek. We just had our physical examination to prepare for the new season. 

You’re now as tall as I am, Otabek says. Sometimes Yuri forgets that Otabek’s considered tiny—a great pose does really make a difference. 

Another 2 inches and I’m going to be as tall as Katsudon, he says enthusiastically. Otabek smiles at him. It’s this very smile that Yuri likes about Otabek, because it makes him feel like he could tell him anything, anywhere. He could be lying down in bed, flopping on his sofa, sprawling across the desk—Otabek doesn’t care. He could be feeling happy, excited, disinterested, worried, angry—Otabek doesn’t care. 

You know, I’ve never eaten katsudon before, Otabek says, not sure if I have told you this. 

SERIOUSLY? Yuri feels his eyes widen. 

Yeah, there aren’t a lot of Japanese restaurant here. 

Maybe he should have taken up Viktor’s suggestion to take Otabek to Hasetsu. 

 

*

 

_Broken rubber band, red_

 

I have a friend in Moscow, Lilia says, who could also train you if you decide to move back to Moscow. 

No, Lilia. Please train me. I can only accept gold. 

It might tear you apart—No, Lilia. _Gold._

 

*

 

_Luggage tag, shape of St Basil’s Cathedral_

 

Hey Beka. I really want to take you to Japan so that we can eat katsudon together. 

It’s ok, I’ll be in the mountains for next few months anyway. 

What are you doing there? Training? 

I’ll show you soon. 

 

*

 

_Mongolian windchime, hung near window_

 

Stay in the competition, Yakov says. Your grandfather would want that. 

Yuri wants to yell at him, what do you know about grandfather, before stopping himself to remember that Yakov does know his grandfather. _A lot._

It was Yakov who had turned up on his grandfather’s doorstep one snowy night a few years back, asking if he had wanted Larisa’s son to carry on her legacy. Hear me out, Nikolai, he said, he would do great. 

Yuri remembers that scandalised face his grandfather had made. Vladimir, was it? He asked. Yuri only knew of one Vladimir back then, the man who was watching him skate in the public rink while training his own daughter. Yuri hadn’t expect his grandfather to know about that Vladimir guy, but now that he had made a mention of him, he wondered if everyone at the rink actually knew his grandfather, or at least knew that Yuri was his mother’s son. 

Yakov gave his grandfather a soft pat on the shoulder. Think of the boy, he was saying, he has your spirit and his mother’s beauty, let him make you proud. 

Yuri’s grandfather let out a violent cough and he finally gave in. More than anyone in the room, Yuri knew that Yakov didn’t come for him, the potential prodigy but had come to save Nikolai, his old friend. It was a very Russian way of caring for each other, Yuri muses. 

Now, however, when Yakov insists that Yuri stay in the competition, it’s not for an old friend’s sake—it’s for a student who has made him proud. 

The thought of it is making Yuri choke. 

 

*

 

_Miniature model of Harley Davidson bike, fallen on the display shelf_

 

Tepa gives a small meow as a greeting. She likes you, Yuri explains. 

I like her too, Otabek says, she’s beautiful. 

You think so, Beka? Yuri can’t help smiling when Otabek compliments him, even if it’s not to him directly. He discovered it by accident when Otabek was complimenting the jacket that was hanging above him, the one with the tiger embroidery and Yuri didn’t have a word for the way he had felt. Only that he was happy, so very very happy. 

And now he does. He had felt _validated._

The cool, awesome, Otabek Altin with an amazing fashion sense was saying that Yuri Plisetsky’s punk style is cool and awesome. He’s pretty sure there’s no better feeling. 

(Other than winning gold, obviously, but even that has debatable moments.)

When are you getting an eagle, by the way? Yuri asks nonchalantly. 

Soon, I believe. 

Are you really for real, Yuri blurts out his usual disbelief. Tepa gives a yelp from the sudden squeeze. 

 

*

 

_Wedding invitation, mailed from Toronto_

 

JJ has obviously gotten his funk again, because he’s back to being a pain the ass in the rankings. Additionally, with Viktor officially competing this time, Yuri has no choice but to be better than them and all of them combined. 

There’s only a limited time before his body loses the adolescence advantage, there’s only a limited time before his grandfather leaves him, there’s only a limited time before his body will start struggling. 

He’ll have to conquer them when he can, before his body eventually fails him. 

Watch me, grandpa, I’m taking on the world with the hands you gave me. 

 

*

 

_Blood test report for Nikolai Plisetsky, conducted by Burdenko General Military Clinical Hospital_

 

Go back to Moscow now, Lilia says, abruptly stopping the ballet practise for the day. 

Lilia is every part a picture of grace and composure—traits that Yakov had no doubt wanted to be instilled in Yuri. Nobody could do it but you, Lilia had said, so you have to be a prima even if you have to watch yourself grind your own flesh to dust. Blood is but a small price to pay for beauty, sanity is but an offering at the door. Yuri Plisetsky, you need to kill yourself before you can be reborn. 

She’s unforgivingly harsh, unapologetically cold, unrelentingly stern, but Yuri—there’s no better word for it— _respects_ her. He only realised it recently, watching Lilia as she gave out instructions to her ballerinas and observing her while she put on her glasses to read the essays written for her ballet institute. All those pictures on her cupboard (some even with Yakov), of her glorious career and of the friendships throughout her life; Yuri had wondered if his own mother would have a collection of pictures of her own, her own glasses to read, and lastly a face that reflects Yuri’s. 

Right now Lilia isn't being Lilia Baranovskaya the former Prima Ballerina, Yuri’s coach—she’s Lilia Baranovskaya, fellow comrades in dance. Her eyes are now the softest Yuri has ever seen her with, and for a brief, transient moment, he wants to jump into her arms. 

_You_ need your grandfather, Yuri Plisetsky. 

Yuri has heard about twenty different versions of the same phrase. Your grandfather needs you now, he doesn’t have a lot of time left. You’re his only family. You’re the only one he has, and more than anything, you need to be by his side. 

It hasn’t occurred to him that all this time, all this while, it hasn’t been about his grandfather, but _himself._

I miss him, the words untangle themselves, so much. 

So, so, _so_ much. 

 

*

 

_Chocolate from Kazakhstan, unopened._

 

Beka, I never asked you this, but that time in Barcelona, how did you know I was in a pinch? 

 

*

 

_Receipt from Ursula’s Alteration for shoulder expansion for the short programme outfit_

 

I will compete in the NHK Trophy, Yuri declares. I will win this, qualify for the Grand Prix Finals and win the gold medal. 

Lilia pulls him into a long, comforting hug. 

 

*

 

_List of possible songs for the new season’s programmes, scratched and scribbled_

 

Yuri Plisetsky’s new short programme is a side trip to Finland from the Silk Road, a music from from the Silk Road Ensemble’s first album, _Miero vuotti uutta kuuta from Five Finnish Folk Songs._

The routine depicts his growth and evolution as a figure skater, synchronising with the music’s increasing complexity as it plays. Yuri Plisetsky, at the age of only-nearly 17, touted the next superstar from the Russian team as Viktor Nikiforov slowly bows to the new generation. 

Even with the soft melody, Yuri Plisetsky skillfully brings out the art in the melody as he twirls beautifully—a quadruple lutz, a triple loop, a beautiful, beautiful Biellman spin and another triple loop follows immediately, and ending it with the graceful, graceful camel spin. 

Yuri Plisetsky, a definition of quiet, forceful grace, proves again that he’s a marvel to watch. What an phenomenon. 

 

*

 

_Choreography planning sheet, crumpled_

 

Hey Katsudon, hey Viktor. 

You guys can start to think of retiring for real. I’m snatching the gold again. 

 

*

 

_A crown of red camellias, dried and lifeless_

 

The song is a strange choice for Yuri Plisetsky. Instead of the usual purely classical or instrumental piece, he has opted for a crossover—Lindsey Stirling’s _Beyond the Veil._

Contrary to his short programme, the song has a dramatic, exciting start to open the mysterious wild and the choreography is equally intense. The point of the song is in the electronic beats underlaying the violin melody, and Yuri matches it with a very, very exciting series of jumps and spins. 

It’s a performance that is meant to outdo his free programme from the previous year, one that will push his limits not just as a skater but as a human. Considering his young age, one does wonder how far can he go from here. 

A double lutz and then a quad—no, it becomes a single, and then next, a triple toe loop—no it becomes a single again, and looks like he’s having a cramp. His coaches are visibly very concerned but it looks like Yuri Plisetsky is going to complete the routine. He gets ready for the jump, looks like the difficulty will be reduced, next is a triple lutz, most likely will tone down—no, it is a triple lutz, the coaches are shouting at him, and the last two jumps are quadruples and it looks like he’ll be pushing the jumps through. Quadruple loop, a signature of his senior, and lastly, a quadruple—

(Grandpa, I won’t fail here, trust me)

—and he falls. 

 

*

 

_A packet of Counter Pain, almost empty_

 

The skating blades don’t seem comfortable hanging on the wall. 

Your season is over, Yuri, they told him. 

If looks could kill, he would glare at them so hard that an entire area is immediately desecrated, leaving only ashes behind.

I'm not letting them collect dust, he swears on his soul. The blades gleam in anticipation. 

 

*

 

_Knee wrap, torn_

 

The journey to the hospital where his grandfather is feels like a drag. The cab ride only started 5 minutes ago, but it feels like it has been going on forever. Thankfully, while the driver seems to recognise him, he doesn't seem to fancy talking a lot, giving Yuri some time to take a good look at the city. 

He hasn't been expecting major changes but like all growing cities, Moscow adds a little more to herself with each passing year and Viktor’s occasional commentaries about all the cities he has been to come to mind. 

(They were all talks about branded goods that usually flew over Yuri. Typical materialist.)

Thinking of Viktor reminds him of those days a few years back when he was first recruited into Yakov’s summer camp and the kids were revering The Viktor—all except Yuri, of course. Yuri has never wanted to be _like_ Viktor, he wants to be _better_. He still remembers those nights when his peers exchange their favourite Viktor routines and what they think were his most memorable moves, and if they were ever going to skate like him. I want to make my parents proud, said one kid, and the rest of them echoed. 

Speaking of the summer camp, Yuri suddenly remembers that Otabek was there. Was he one of the bigger kids who were permanently hidden, Yuri wonders. Didn’t he mention that he was struggling? Was he one of the kids that didn’t even fall into Yuri’s line of vision? 

For a brief moment, Yuri feels like he should be embarrassed. 

If you need help, the driver says, pulling Yuri away from his thoughts, I can spare some time. 

He’s referring to the luggages that Yuri has taken along with him to the hospital and the fact that his legs are still not in their prime condition. While the pain along his ankle has subsided, he still needs to be careful to not accidentally stress his calf muscles. He had to spend a week getting cryotherapy before Yakov and Lilia agreed to let him travel back to Moscow for the remainder of the season. 

I’ll be ok, he assures the cab driver. 

The driver nods and restarts the engine. You did great, by the way, he says. 

The unexpected compliment reminds him of Lilia’s words: 

You have an entire world ahead, go get yourself healed and come back to throw Viktor off his throne. 

 

*

 

_Aeroflot Boarding pass to Moscow, one way_

 

His grandfather has the biggest smile Yuri has ever seen on his rapidly aging face. 

Yuratchka, I was so proud of you. 

Grandpa, Yuri sobs, I screwed up. 

No, you didn’t. 

I did. 

No, you didn’t. You definitely didn’t. 

 

*

 

_Picture of a handsome golden eagle_

 

My new friend, Otabek introduces him. 

What’s his name? Yuri texts back. They talk via text more often now that Yuri’s spending most of his time in the hospital. 

Batur, he replies, it means _hero_ in Kazakh. 

Wow, Yuri blurts out. So he’s your pet now? 

No, not my pet. You can’t make eagles your pets, Otabek explains. You have to gain their trust. 

That’s tough, Yuri says. Tepa seems obedient in comparison. 

(Speaking of Tepa, he needs to ask Katsudon if she has been stealing those dried fishes from Yuko’s packages. He just remembered that he forgot to tell him about it.)

I’ll be seeing her next weekend, would you come with me?

Yuri’s taken aback by the invitation. It’s not the first time that Otabek has invited him to Kazakhstan, but for some reason, this one, meeting with Batur the Eagle feels a little too personal. Like it’s a Kazakh thing that has no place for a little Russian kid who knows almost nothing about Kazakhstan. 

I don’t think that’s very appropriate? Yuri says, trying hard to not sound like he’s rejecting Otabek. 

Actually he reminds me of you, so I thought you should meet him. 

Who is he kidding, Yuri thinks. Didn’t he just send me a picture? How am I in anyway like that eagle at all?

 

*

 

_Picture of Tepa, grumpily squeezed between Makkachin and Viktor_

 

She growled at Makkachin for a few days, Katsudon says. But now they are friends, even Viktor’s growing attached to her. 

A few weeks ago, Katsudon offered to have Yuri stay with them as he recuperates from his injury. It must be a Japanese thing to do, Yuri had thought. Even Yuko-san had agreed to Katsudon’s suggestion, but Lilia had blankly refused to let Yuri near the rink. 

He needs to go back to Moscow, she said plainly. Unsurprisingly, Katsudon backed out a bit. Yuri doesn’t blame him. Lilia can be a little intimidating sometimes. 

(A _little???_ Katsudon said in disbelief. I thought I would piss in my pants!)

Katsudon didn’t give up easily. He kept telling Yakov that Yuri needs someone to care for him while retaining his spirits in the sports, because who is better to talk about post-defeat depression than he is? 

Yakov gave him a stern look, a look that Yuri knew very well. It was the look that asked Katsudon if he was questioning his integrity as the coach of the Russian national team. The look that said, who else is more qualified to talk about my students than I am? 

Yuri will go back to Moscow. Yakov’s tone was final, not saying a lot--just enough to make his intents clear. 

Katsudon stopped pursuing it the day after. Yakov probably gave Viktor quite a lecture. 

 

*

 

_Picture of Yuri’s grandfather, sleeping_

 

It will be over soon, Yuri says over Facetime. Grandpa will be discharged soon. 

Does he still require follow up treatments? Otabek asks. 

Not really, since he’s getting more stable, apparently. The doctor said a lot of things I don’t understand and all I know is that he could go back home next week. His blood pressure is going down and as long as he watches what he eats, he’ll be fine. 

Otabek smiles. I’m glad to hear that. 

He said he’ll be making pirozhki for me again, Yuri says. The more he thinks about his grandpa’s pirozhkis, the happier he feels. He has, unfortunately, made a mistake in blurting out about it to Katsudon, and naturally, Viktor whined about not being able to eat the katsudon pirozhki and how he would throw away everything just to be able to taste a katsudon pirozhki. Katsudon had to remind him about poor Makkachin, whose life was at stake the last time Yuri’s grandpa had made any katsudon pirozhki. 

It makes me happy that you’re smiling again, Otabek says. 

Really? he asks. Was I really that gloomy? 

Otabek looks like he’s calculating his words. 

I know I’ve been gloomy though, you don’t have to mince words or stuff. 

For a while, Otabek doesn’t say anything, only looking downwards. 

I’m just glad you’re happy, Yuri. I don’t have to worry anymore. 

Wait, Yuri says, you were worried? 

Yes, I was. 

He used to ridicule Mila for overthinking stuff and holding on to meaningless things boys said in exchange for a kiss or two, but now that he has heard Otabek say something as simple as that, he couldn’t help but wanting to latch on to it. 

He wants to thank Otabek, even kiss him if he could, but it feels unnecessary at the moment. 

 

*

 

_Picture of Batur, spreading her wings_

 

I made a friend, grandpa. He’s an amazing skater, who’s like, really, really cool. He’s from Kazakhstan and he’s really great. Have you been there, grandpa? 

(Oh, you have? Can you take me there someday?)

He’s just two years older but he can already ride a bike, and you wouldn’t believe how I met him. 

 

*

 

_Palouse Ice Rink ticket for an hour of figure skating session, ₽400_

 

The kids are sure having fun, Yuri thinks. He’s just stopping by on a whim, not being able to contain the ache any further. He has also done the physiological stress test while stretching at home: splits are ok, side stretches are ok, jumps are ok. The ankle is a bit delicate but he can already kneel for 5 seconds without mini earthquakes occurring across the ligaments. 

A girl and a boy, probably siblings, waddling on the ice while the instructors pull them. Slowly, one of says, you have the knee pads on, don't worry about falling. 

Yuri remembers his own instructor, whom he only recently knew was that Vladimir guy’s little brother. His grandfather was too poor to afford him actual lessons with an actual instructor, but Vladimir’s brother had taken a look at him and told him to skate, pretending to chide his own students while giving thinly-veiled instructions to Yuri. 

He must have done it because he knew who my mother was, Yuri thinks. It’s funny how your childhood makes more sense the older you become. If only he could remember the exact words he had said, perhaps he would even get more clues of what had happen to his own father and what were his grandfather’s relationships with people around him. 

Yuri Plisetsky! he hears a child calling. It’s the boy, who’s waving at him. Mommy, mommy! He calls to a woman outside the rink. It’s Yuri Plisetsky!

He wants to hide his face with his hoodie cap, but seeing the genuine, enthusiastic faces of the small crowd, it feels cruel to not smile back at them. 

 

*

 

_Rare picture of Batur, facing the camera_

 

You didn’t take this picture, Yuri insists despite Otabek’s claim. 

Otabek, to say the very least, has a great sense of aesthetics when it comes to nature. He once mentioned to Yuri that his childhood home was in a town surrounded by mountains, which probably had contributed to his affinity for natural beauty. Then again, Yuri thinks, Otabek does like pretty things in general, doesn't he? Yuri once tried to persuade him to join Instagram, but he refused. 

I don't particularly care about other people's life, he had said. JJ had asked as well, because it would bring me closer to him. 

Ugh, screw JJ, Yuri said. JJ doesn't know it, but recently Yuri has taken the initiative to unfollow him from all possible social platforms because he demanded that Yuri updates his recovery progress. 

(Katsudon said that JJ actually meant well, but Viktor reminded him that ~someone~ had refused to take even a commemorative picture with him after losing in a Grand Prix Final.)

But even with a great sense of aesthetics, it has hardly been a boost to his photography skills. It probably doesn't help that Otabek isn't willing to get an actual camera instead of relying solely on his phone. The pictures he take are often a little blurry on the sides, wrongly-angled, mistakenly-focused and unsuitably filtered. 

This picture of Batur though—it's _spectacular_. It’s the kind of picture anyone would think was taken with a DSLR at least, like Batur was standing still and actually posing. It’s the kind of picture that Yuri believes is only possible because Batur has really taken a liking to Otabek and is willing to do what Otabek asks of him. 

It leaves Yuri in speechless awe yet it also makes Yuri understand a lot of different things. It’s like he could feel a force coming from the picture, like it’s what makes the earth spin, but most of all, it makes Yuri yearn for an encounter with this majestic creature. The coolness of it could probably send Yuri into a fit of jealousy. 

I want to meet him, Yuri mumbles. 

What? Otabek asks, eyes suddenly dilate. 

Nothing.

 _Nothing_ , Yuri repeats to himself. 

 

*

 

_Cat-eared hairband, slightly crooked_

 

I made a friend, grandpa.

Oh, I told you about him? The excitement must have gotten to me. 

He's really very nice to me! We see each other a lot—I mean we did a lot of video calls since we’ve always been too busy with our own training. It’s the first time I found someone so easy to talk to, he’s always ready to listen. He’s actually also really interesting himself, did you know that the Kazakhs still have this tradition of hunting with eagles? The way my friend said it, it’s like you have to make an eagle your ally, then you take them along in your hunting journeys, then you just need to look at the eagle and they will take off and zoom! all the way to the prey and catch it for you. 

Isn’t it cool, grandpa? 

Really cool, isn’t it. 

Do you think it’s ok if I—

If I—

Sort of—

Just for a while—

Go and visit him? 

I really want to see the eagle. 

 

*

 

_Picture of Tepa’s little paper box, parts bitten as makeshift armrest_

 

She’s been missing you, Viktor says. How’s everything there? 

Viktor’s timing is, the best way to put it, invasive. His grandfather has recovered enough to be able to make pirozhki for him again, so Viktor video-calling him at dinner, just right when he’s about to indulge in his own homemade luxury is as good robbing his gold medal all over again. 

What’s Katsudon doing? He asks. It’s strange that it’s not Katsudon doing the talking this time around. Sometimes Katsudon’s overly concerned tone grates him, but Yuri’s been so accustomed to being nagged about once a week that the absence of it grates him as well. 

Aww, Viktor gushes. You missed him? 

No, you _idiot_. Yuri makes sure that he hisses the word “idiot” slowly and clearly, like the way Viktor deserves to hear. 

Ah, but he does miss you. Viktor says, resting his cheek on his hand. Things doesn’t feel normal without Yurio here. 

You’re a mother-fucking Russian, Yuri says after being absolutely sure that his grandfather’s still in the kitchen, use my name properly. 

You know I can’t—actually perhaps I don’t feel like it. Viktor says, using a voice that suggests that he has something hidden. 

Yuri hates guessing games. It’s probably the reason why the longer he is in the senior division, the more he realises that their styles don’t match well. Viktor still wants to surprise his audiences, Yuri thinks that the only surprise should be his existence itself. Yakov clearly knew what he was doing when he had Lilia coach Yuri instead of scrambling all the wisdom of his coaching career to get Viktor back to Russia when he took off to Japan the year before. 

If you’re telling me that the Katsudon is planning to retire again, tell him he can go fuck off, because I’m not taking the bait again—

Actually no, Viktor cuts. He’s waiting for you to return. 

Yuri’s eyes meet Viktor’s. 

And you’re telling this to me because?

Nothing, Viktor shrugs. 

 

*

 

_Teddy bear, grey with dust_

 

Sometimes when he dreams, Yuri imagines how would be his next short programme be like. He even has some idea on how the song would be like—something soft and ethereal to ease the return of the Yuri Plisetsky brand of grace to the rink. 

Ah, something comes to mind. Loreena McKennit’s _The Mummers’ Dance_ would be perfect. 

He must thank Viktor someday for _Agape_ , the song that was the foundation of his performance trademark. 

 

*

 

_Scented Pink Fan letters, unopened_

 

Your leg is all healed up now, go back and fight. 

Grandpa, Yuri’s murmurs soft and shaky. 

Nikolai Plisetsky holds his grandson tight. 

Don’t be silly, I won’t die easily. 

 

*

 

_Replica of a Faberge Egg, souvenir for Otabek_

 

Summer in Almaty is so ridiculously hot that Yuri thinks he could die just by breathing. But it’s now or never, because the new season is starting and he has only so much time before Yakov summons him back to work. 

You really have grown, Otabek says in stoic astonishment when they meet. I think you’re now taller than me. 

Really? Yuri says, standing straight to compare himself with Otabek, hand raised up to his head and moving it to the top of Otabek’s head. The tiny gap makes him laugh. 

I really am taller than you now! he exclaims, glad to have the opportunity to release the excitement he’s feeling. There’s always something really intimate about meeting Otabek in person that Yuri doesn’t quite grasp, the feeling is like watching something turning from 2-dimensional into reality. 

It’s a strange analogy and Yuri tries to not think about it, but the reality is that he finds Otabek really, really nice to look at in this more relaxed context. Perhaps it’s because they are meeting outside the rink and there’s no competitive tension between them. Perhaps it’s because there are some really subtle changes in the way Otabek looks, because Yuri can’t help noticing that his jaw is a little sharper, and the undercut beside his ear looks cooler. 

Yuri, is there anything wrong? Otabek asks. 

Nothing, Yuri shakes his head, mentally slapping himself for almost wanting to touch Otabek’s hair. 

 

*

 

_Cat plushie, untouched_

 

Yuri’s free programmes are usually dramatic, erratic, and most of all—arresting. He has to thank LIlia someday for giving him her sense of aesthetics and her taste for heart-stopping melodies, but for the free programme of his comeback, it would have to be something subtle, something that the audience wouldn’t be able to look away from. 

The choreography would have to be about him, Yuri Plisetsky and his ability to draw all onlooking eyes into his beautiful, fantastical world. 

I’ll be the most alluring monster you’ll ever see, Yuri promises, skating to Origa’s _Aurora_. 

 

*

 

_Leopard print jacket, bought in Almaty’s Arbat_

 

The journey to Bayan-Olgii is a lot of work, a lot of dedication, a lot of research and a lot kinder to Yuri than the unpredictable Almaty. 

It’s also the coolest adventure that Yuri has ever been on, so much coolness packed in a package that Yuri finds his mind working slower than his eyes, even though the entire journey was almost all about green plains and mountains in distance. 

It must be tiring for you, Otabek says. 

No, it has been amazing, Yuri answers sincerely. 

For all the thoughts that Yuri has about taking people into places that they have never seen, Yuri himself hasn’t been prepared to be taken in himself. It’s like Hasetsu all over again, when everything is the same and yet nothing is, and not for the first time, Yuri is made to feel small and insignificant. 

The wide plains and the mountains really do drive the point home, he thinks, remembering that grandfather had told him that he had once been to Kazakhstan. What did you see in Kazakhstan, Yuri suddenly aches to ask, only his phone hasn’t been able to receive signals. 

We’re calling Batur soon, come along, Otabek says and Yuri, suddenly detached from his view, stumbles to keep up. 

Otabek laughs heartily as he pulls Yuri up. 

Yuri feels so lame that he can only hope the heat on his cheeks doesn’t show. 

 

*

 

_Box of Kazakh tea, souvenir for grandfather_

 

Katsudon and Viktor were obviously really happy—their comments on the selfie with Otabek that Yuri put on Instagram made Yuri wish there’s a function to delete comments on the app. 

Or just delete their existence from the Internet, really. 

I see you got your two L’s, Viktor wrote. What is he talking about, Yuri thinks. 

You’re really, truly, Viktor’s protege, Katsudon’s comment wrote. It makes Yuri’s skin crawl. Wait till I’m back in St Petersburg, he vows, I’ll beat you until you take that comment back. What an insult, to equate him with the love-bitten Viktor who dumped his life in Russia to get his ass on a useless guy. 

Besides, Otabek’s just a friend, idiots. 

Yet, sometimes he can’t get mad at some other comments insinuating similarly. 

Like the ones Phichit wrote. 

(Yuri has also not exactly spoken to Phichit in person. But somehow they just ended up adding each other on Instagram and before they knew it, started keeping up with each other’s lives. 

At least Phichit’s a really nice guy. Yuri doesn’t mind him much.)

You two look very good together ♥. 

Even just reading it makes Yuri hear it in his voice. 

What are you smiling at? Otabek asks. 

Yuri turns around to look at Otabek, Phichit’s comment still lingering, thanking fate that Otabek doesn’t have an Instagram account.

 

*

 

_An eagle feather, found on mountain trails_

 

Otabek stops at a cliff with a few eagles flying overhead, overlooking the green plain below with a few horses galloping across. 

Careful, Yuri, he whispers. I’m about to get Batur. 

He catches the eyes of a particularly handsome one and it immediately dashes down to perch on his shoulder. The speed of the dash could probably tear a weaker man but Otabek remains firm. 

I’ve told him about you, Otabek says. You can say hi. 

How? Yuri wonders. The eagle is unmistakably the most alert creature that he has ever seen, even more so than Tepa could be in front of a packet of dried fish and while it’s obvious that Batur is a stranger to Yuri, he doesn’t seem hostile. 

Do I pat him? Yuri wants to ask, feeling extremely foolish. 

I think you guys will get along, Otabek says. When I become a hunter later, Batur will be my partner. 

Hunter? Really? Yuri has heard Otabek talk about the Golden Eagle Festival, with people gathering around and catching preys with their eagles, but to think that Otabek himself actually plans to join, it’s nothing short of remarkable. 

Everything he knows about Otabek fascinates him, but this takes the cake. 

You’re amazing, Yuri blurts out unknowingly. 

Otabek looks really surprised, then gives Yuri a smile like no other. 

For the first time, Yuri sees the way Otabek looks when he’s pleased with himself. 

 

*

 

_Pieces of straw, from the base of the tent_

 

The day is long in the summer here, but the weather is as chilly as night. They could have taken the horse back to the tent, but Yuri wants to walk. 

My leg needs to walk more, he says. 

It turns out to be the worst decision in his life because his leg gives in not halfway into the route, and Otabek immediately offers a piggyback ride until they reach the tent. Yuri insists that getting some rest would do the trick, but Otabek says that the weather will be colder later, so it’s best they move as fast as possible. 

The journey back then turns awkward, because suddenly Otabek is way too close for comfort—in fact, he’s so close that Yuri could probably _smell_ him. Yuri is promptly reminded of the sort of thing Viktor likes to do to Yuuri and it puts him in so much in so much unease that all he wants is to have turned back time and chosen the horse. 

Yuri, Otabek suddenly says. 

Yes?

Do you like Batur? 

Yes, he answers immediately. 

Do you like it here?

Yes, this time he draws out his answer, trying to restrain from guessing what will be coming next. 

Would you stay longer next time? 

Yuri would say yes immediately, yes for everything, but it seems a bit like an oversimplification to everything. When he thinks about it, Otabek is probably not talking about this little road trip they took to see just an eagle, but the journey of their friendship, probably starting from the time they passed by each other in the hallways of Yakov’s training center, not knowing of the impact they would have on one another until now, with Otabek carrying Yuri on his back. 

He was worried, remember? Yuri tells himself. He cares for you. 

Once upon a time, Yuri Plisetsky would have scoffed at this concept of hope. Belief and faith would do nothing when you don’t have skills, he had believed. It was how he had learned to live when his grandfather was all he could hold on to, it was how he had worked his way through effortlessly trashing his peers to become the greatest among them, and it was how he had convinced himself to climb back after the fall. 

Yet now he wants to be able to hope that one of these days, he would be able to figure out if Otabek will become another person for him to hold on to and that Otabek would wait until then. 

His answer to that question is as clear as sky, but the weight of it feels like it could crush him. 

He tightens his hold and Otabek pauses in his steps. 

Yuri? Otabek asks. 

Beka, I’m cold, Yuri whispers into Otabek’s neck. He’s not talking about the weather.

 

*

 

_Knee wrap, torn and thrown away_

 

In a few months, when the commentators announce about Yuri Plisetsky’s routine, it would not be about the fact that he had suffered a fall a season earlier, but about the grace and dignity that of a soldier that he brings to the rink. 

He will land all his jumps and perfect all the spins, he will dance like there’s no tomorrow, he’ll marvel the audience, he’ll surprise the judges. Viktor Nikiforov will shake in excitement, Katsuki Yuuri will tremble in fear, Jean-Jaques Leroy will suddenly forget his name, Otabek Altin will brim with pride, Christophe Giacometti will come just by watching him, Phichit Chulanont will forget his dream, everybody else will be driven to silence because when a monster is unleashed, you listen. 

Listen to its song, feel the sensation of its every step, watch it soar. 

 

*

 

_Gold medal, hung high in Yuri’s room_

 

Far away in the mountains, an eagle is released from his hunting duties. 

 

*


End file.
